Christmas Coach

Originally posted on Twelfth Month Joy:

Christmas Eve

Night-time shift

Number Eight Loop

Crystal drift

Bus a-humming

Toasty warm

Pulling over

Waving arm

She a mother

Stroller too

Baby bundle

All in blue

Tears were present

Face was flushed

Folding door would

Groan when pushed.

Can you help me

But no cash

Had to make

A fearful dash.

Boyfriend livid

High on dope

Jobless Christmas

Little hope.

“Come in Sweetheart

Shut the door”

All of this

He’d seen before.

Blanket tucked in

Precious kiss

Harvey whistling

“What child is this?”

Let her rest here

Newfound friend

Women’s shelter

At the end.

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Gallilean/The Big Fisherman

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Scattered…

Don’t know what’s been collected

What has been gathered

A connection is being made

A path is laid

Casting and retrieving again

peter

Laden and sparse

More than sufficient

Prudence increases proficience

Land-locked…

Longing for the seashore

Smell of salt in the air

Rushes of wind and waves

dancing clouds of frantic seabirds

feasting on a boiling surface

shatters silent glass in dreams

while waiting…

always the mending of the nets

my brethren and I are called to be

comforted one in another

passing time gainfully

a good fisherman always prepares

before heading out to ‘see’

representing more than we ever thought

something so simple could mean

a living…

a trade…

remolded, reshaped, reborn, remade,

in the end diving headfirst into the sea of glass,

in Your arms…

“I Love You, I’ve always Loved You”

The fisherman rests.

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“come…”

(a tender whisper on a gentle breeze from a nearby shore beckons and tear-filled eyes refreshed bask in the glow of the sight)

Do ya’ love me bro’?,

Do ya’…?

Do ya…?

 

Regrouping

Originally posted on justhappeneduponthis:

Not a day for flying

The big bird resorts

To rugged rocks on high

Eyes taken off the prey

Wings collapsed to the gale

And a beak needing trimming.

He scrapes and pauses

Scrapes and pauses

No lordly cry challenges

Those heights

Only a mechanical sound

Of reconstruction.

And talons score the granite.

Days pass

Beautiful sunrises beckon

But the bird persists

At his task

Fasting, unconsciously

As if by some silent

Inner compunction.

And lo, his youth is renewed.

And he flies again.

Master over foreordained realms.

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Faith Unlikely Attired

jesus cloak

On display… in the front window of a clothing store what you’ve always desired but could never afford. The store itself a marvel of achitecture ornately decorated shiny and full of splendor. A man walks up to you and asks: “what is it that you seek?” “Tis’ my heart’s desire unfurled before me.” “I am a man of means and i would like to pay the cost for you to have it” says the man. So you watch incredulously as the man walks in and the store clerk takes it down from where it hung on display wraps it in white tissue paper lays it across the counter ever so gently.

The man motions for you to step forward and receive it, the full purchase price has been paid. But as you step towards the threshold you catch your reflection in the window, can’t believe or conceive it… say: “why would a stranger do this for me?” and so you hesitate. You think to yourself: “i can’t go in there anyhow, not looking this way” So you run… 

And come to learn one day that kind man never stopped looking for you he found you passed out in an alleyway you awakened to a voice that said: “I’ve waited a long time, to give this gift to you, you’ve grown a bit but rest assured it shall be a perfect fit.”

O.E.W.

Hold Your Silence..?

I will never say that progress is being made, if you stick a knife in my back 9 inches and pull it out 6 inches that’s not progress.

If you pull it all the way out, that’s not progress.

The progress lies in healing the wound that is below me and they haven’t even begun to pull the knife out, much less try to heal the wound.

They won’t even admit it was ever there.” Malcolm X

child in prison

Hold your silence

Hold your silence till the end of all time.

See the quiet ones and wonder not about them.

Watch them fall behind, their crooked little legs unable to keep pace.

Fading in the distance, they cried out the only way they knew how and no one answered.

Off to serve went the soldiers, leaving behind silent prisoners without the benefit of basic training.

Premeditated, planned, ”big brothers” were watching and they were angry,

They should have murdered them in the physical sense, that would have been much more merciful.

Instead, they exacted vengeance unto the very core of their being.

Decades passed, like blind hemophiliacs who’d suffered a pinprick and couldn’t comprehend why they kept feeling woozy.

They must have known “they” were hurting, but they cleaved to silence self-absorbed and moved on.

Offered only years of arrogance and deceptive boisterous noise bereft of substance.

A quick study, We unconsciously mirrored this diabolic, rhetorical, dialect of guilt shame and denial.

Diligently began construction on a prison cell of our own, formed from the mud and straw of bitterness, cynicism, resentment and “Judge-mentality“ brick by brick.

When night fell, the terrors seeped through the cracks in the cell walls cornering us again, they never ceased.

Sleep was “total blackout” and an uneasy welcome relief, accompanied by an unwelcome relief.

When We awakened there was no recollection of nightmares,

only wet bed sheets and a light-headed sense of losing one’s grip on reality.

We wrestled with sleep paralysis and the enemy’s onslaughts to awaken.

Hitler entranced an entire people simply by repeating the same lie over and over and over until finally…

it was accepted as truth.

“Taught to look at only the hole and never see the donut” (John Bradshaw).

But…now, “the chickens have come home to roost” in an end-time climate of fear“.

Enablers…oh how we love to loathe them !

As soon as they could no longer get their co-dependent needs met, right under a fast moving bus we went.

And even though we’d bared our heart and soul to many who professed to love us,

there we were again abandoned, destitute, without a clue to just how screwed up We had actually become.

Homeless in much more than just the physical sense.

(“a sick mind doesn‘t know it‘s sick “-John Bradshaw).

Unconditional love, will tackle you and hold you still till the storms pass, block your way from running, knock you out cold if it has to !

We didn’t know that then, no one had ever demonstrated it to us in a practical applicable sense, in all the wrong places we had looked to.

Or even in the right places while still blinded by a corrupted mindset (“stinking thinking“).

“Snap”

A circuit breaker tripped.

“Clank”

A cell door slammed shut.

A mind raced desperately to nowhere without any sign of a finish line, a fugitive from reality.

(…and they, them, their, all cried out in unison resonating in the deepest caverns of his mind, again and again and again.)

“We ran out just in time,

in time…

you’re the strong one,

strong one…

the one who endures,

endures…

Let us know when it’s safe,

safe…safe…safe…

to come out again.

Can we come out again?

can we…

can we…

And we’ll try to tell you,

you…

you…

about him, the kind one,,

kind one…

kind one…

The one who puts his arms around us,

Comforts us,

He comforts us,

around us…

around us…

comforts us…

comforts us…

Maybe this time you‘ll hear us.

Maybe this time…

We are you !

HE just can’t hear us,

can’t hear us…

what is wrong with Him?

wrong with him…

wrong with him…

We’ve tried so many times in vain to reach out to him.”

Wait…

wait…

He moved…

“Out of the depths I cry out to you O’ Lord !”

Look to the Heavens breathe in the ethers and heave a heavy sigh,

No pain…

He thought that’s where He’d find you .

Didn’t know you had always walked alongside him.

Oh so sorry, for how he must have grieved you.

Through a mist, you show him a closed bathroom door.

Through another door he is being forced face down on a bed.

He found them all right there, hovering in the corners of those rooms, cowering, observing, absorbing,

touched by deprivation, perversion, lust, envy, hatred, cowardice, infected with guilt and shame.

Fragmented like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, afraid, Hurt, dazed, that’s why they couldn’t remember it all,

why they couldn’t speak, they remained “frozen” therein and within .

Caught unaware in each instance by cruelty in kindness modeling masques of familiarity and trust.

Each incident erased from consciousness as it occurred, splitting off, fanning out,

running for cover in a panic, manifested in cold sweats, labored breath and a sense of loss.

The coat of many vibrant colors that was his God given inheritance, bloodstained and filthy (blinded to the many glorious hues of us, me, them and you).

They continued to thrive autonomously, abandoned to “miles and miles of desolation” in backgrounds of abstract, grey, twisted, distorted, wilderness landscapes of a gifted yet troubled vivid imagination.

Stored away…filed under “FEAR“.

Every now and then catching a glimpse of, but unable to fully perceive or fight what was well hidden.

Shadow boxing ghosts in his mind, drifting away a little at a time.

Those were the eyes God gave me and the “Interloper” conspired to shut !

“Hate the sin and not the sinner”, They were affected as well and compromised

(“Misguided Ghosts“), all in all.

By Grace, the fog is lifting.

I can finally stand upright, as the hand that once pressed down on the back of my neck disintegrates to ashes.

I can see through tightly shut eyes.

I can hear over the ringing in my ears.

I can speak past the hand that once muffled my cries,

of the brutality that was too painful to fully remember,

comprehend or relate to others.

Little children, don’t be afraid any longer, open your eyes look at me.

See me in you, See you, me ,us, them.

See your true self,

You were never given the chance to be.

Gather around me now time to come home, altogether now…push,…fight…stand,

ONE !!!

Home…

out of the rabbit hole (so to speak).

Eyes adjusting to the light.

Struggling to walk against the gravity of apathy.

I cannot even begin to explain that which is beyond understanding, His ways are not ours.

Rest now weary child and know that GOD is real.

He will never ABANDON you.

HE knows …

HE saw…

HE heard…

He heals.

THE LORD reveals himself through his LIVING WORD and through others.

He is the faintest whisper in the storm.

HE is always “in control”,

even when we are not in control of ourselves.

THE LORD loves in a depth beyond our understanding.

He’s got this, All of this !

All that is required is,

To believe,

believe,

believe.

Father…

please help me to let go of the past,

and forgive, forgive, forgive, as you’ve forgiven me.

Jesus said: “follow me”.

Finally…I heard and understood, aware, awake, vigilant.

“Be prepared”.

“Awaken sleeper

And rise from the dead

And Christ will shine on you.”

Ephesians 5:14

michael

O.E.W.

Man O’ War/Sandcastles

bucket

It was a typical day at the beach, Mom, four sisters and He. Bits scavenged from a dark mystery puzzle pieces buried in the sands of time. A plastic shovel and bright blue pail in his hand, he heads towards the cool wet sand. Stops as if he feels himself being watched, turns and looks over his shoulder, smiles warmly and i wave goodbye to me as he softly dissipates to mist. Insidious strange characters rush past my mind, passing through time, grains of sand through fingers, haunting faces and long forgotten names. Unseen cuts across soles of feet and palms of hands. The memory of every single sting, from every flying, creeping, crawling thing, lingers… How was a child supposed to know, scorpions had faces like men and hands and fingers, to clasp and hold live prey? And they kneeled… And then they preyed! And who knew… that a spineless jellyfish, possessed such a lethal stinger? Oh, how the pain did linger. (“remember now”) building a castle from sand, encircled by a moat. (“remember”) Claimed by the tide, how i cried. (“remember”) Essence of creativity set aside, caught in a temporal landslide (“remember”) Stored within my heart, in a safe refuge remote, protected by a living moat, i…remember. Sheltered while in slumber, the onslaughts withstood, formed from tiny grains of sand, held fast, by unseen Mighty Hands. i won’t forget, what You did for me, i look at the world and know, there is just too much at stake to remain silenced.

(this piece was set aside it wasn’t meant to be shared, i thought. it had been pulling at me all day today very strongly i wrote it some time ago and i thought it was just too personal. so i decided to go out and do some yard work and ignore whatever i was feeling, three minutes into mowing the belt snapped on the cutting deck. so without skipping a beat i assembled a polesaw attachment and connected it to the trimmer. began trimming dead palm branches off of a tree and was stung by a wasp right on my lip, needless to say after applying a paste of baking soda and water to the affected area i started to wonder why things were going so wrong. i realized i was supposed to post this today and i didn’t want to at all, in fact i posted it and removed it, then re-posted it. i can’t know if this means anything to anyone but me, all i know is i felt compeled to write it. i’d never been stung by a wasp before and it immediately reminded me of the references to stings in this piece and i knew i had to share it, though I did not want to. it doesn’t make any sense i know, but it does to me for some odd reason it did after posting it . “Made-perfect” sense. in every way)

O.E.W.